


Missed Opportunities

by aphreal



Series: Opportunities, Lost and Regained [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: AU of an AU, Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphreal/pseuds/aphreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Teagan breaks things off with Meriana Cousland, Alistair discovers that he might have an unexpected chance at love he'd given up on. But not everyone sees a royal wedding as a happily ever after.<br/>(written for a prompt to destroy two otps with a wedding)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chenria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chenria/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Teagan's Chance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377093) by [CherieoftheDragons (SignCherie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/CherieoftheDragons), [SignCherie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignCherie/pseuds/SignCherie). 



> First and foremost, if you have not read Teagan's Chance by the amazing signcherie, go read it. Seriously. I'll wait.  
> The following fic is an AU detour from that story, and it will make far more sense if you've read the original. (In fact, Cherie was kind enough to let me nick dialogue from chapter 3 of TC for the opening of this fic.) The only deviation I've made from Cherie's premise is removing Anora from the picture. Otherwise, everything in the first three chapters of Teagan's Chance can be assumed to have happened, right up to the point where I take it off the rails. 
> 
> Teagan's Chance is a sweet, lovely story written as a gift to explore Chenria's headcanon ending for Meri. I have been fortunate enough to beta for Cherie and act as a sounding board while she develops a wonderful canon for Chen.  
> Missed Opportunities is my little way of distorting the entire thing into angst. In my defense, Chen asked me to do it. Sort of. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by Chenria giving me a prompt for "a fic where Lexia and Teagan have to witness Meriana and Alistair getting married." I'm pretty sure Chen didn't intend for me to follow through on it, but well, be careful what you wish for...

“What do you mean you’re going back to Redcliffe?” Alistair glared at his honorary uncle, trying to channel the authority of sitting behind a large, regal desk. “You can’t leave now. You have to make things right with Meri.”

“Did Meriana say something to you?” Teagan flinched at her name, confirming Alistair’s hunch. 

Blight it, he’d hoped he was wrong. 

“No, but she’s been moping around here for days. And rearranging her schedule so she never sees you. I’m not a complete fool, you know.”

“No, of course not.” Teagan’s voice dropped, sounding resigned. 

Alistair crossed his arms. “So go make it right.”

Teagan sighed, dropping into a chair across from the desk. “I don’t know how.”

Alistair paused, compassion warring with selfishness. 

Teagan continued, oblivious to his inner struggle. “She won’t even see me. When she does see me, she refuses to speak to me. She’s made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with me. And I think...” His voice choked off, but he rallied and finished. “I think I should respect her wishes.”

Alistair stared at him for a moment, torn. Could it really be this easy? Maybe he hadn’t lost his chance; maybe he could still have a future with Meri. All it would take would be doing nothing, sitting back and… watching someone he cared about make a terrible mistake. 

Void take it, he’d never been good at being selfish. 

Alistair shook his head. “No.”

Teagan blinked. “What?”

“No. I won’t allow it.” He planted his hands firmly on his desk, refusing to think about whether he could have held them steady otherwise. 

“But-- what --”

Alistair leaned forward on those planted hands, glaring at his uncle with a fierce intensity. Did he have to spell this out, to draw out the torture of giving her up? “Listen to me. Meriana Cousland is the most beautiful, amazing, strong, kind, and -- well, heroic person I’ve ever met. If you’ve got any sense, any sense at all, then as long as there’s still a chance she might return your feelings, you won’t give up. You’ll keep fighting.” 

Alistair tried to keep his stare firm, to pretend he hadn’t just given away far, far too much. 

Teagan said nothing at first, and Alistair wanted to squirm under his penetrating gaze. Damn it, he’d definitely said more than he should have. 

“You should tell her.” Teagan’s voice was soft, and his eyes sad. 

Alistair shook his head and looked away from his uncle’s pity. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve had all this time, and she’s never...” He shrugged, resigned to the truth he’d realized outside the kitchens during the coronation ball. “I’m not what she wants.” 

Teagan didn’t respond at first, and the silence stretched out, becoming uncomfortable. Alistair knew he should say something, but he couldn’t force himself to push any further. If Teagan couldn’t realize what he had a chance at with Meri, if he didn’t want her enough to fight for her… maybe he didn’t deserve her after all. 

When Teagan finally broke the silence, his words were nothing Alistair would have expected. “How can you be so sure if you’ve never given her the choice?” He rose from the chair, squaring his shoulders as he stood. “I’ll be leaving for Redcliffe in the morning. You should talk to Meriana.” 

\-----------

True to his word, Teagan departed from the capital the following day. Without so much as saying goodbye to Meri. Admittedly, that would have been hard given how firmly she’d been avoiding him, but Alistair didn’t feel inclined to be charitable as he watched Meri mope around trying to pretend nothing was wrong. 

After a week of listening to Meri sigh to herself and watching her dab tears from the corners of her eyes when she thought no one was looking, Alistair couldn’t take it any longer. He sent a note requesting her presence in his office, feeling a little silly for having a servant deliver a simple message when he could have walked down the hall himself. But what was the point of being king if he couldn’t take advantage of it now and then? 

Meri arrived a few minutes later, frowning, that little crease forming between her eyebrows that always showed up when she worried. “What’s happened? Did the Orlesians send another set of revisions to the trade proposals? I know Eamon wants you to be receptive, but at this point I think they’re testing to see how much they can get away with against an untried monarch.” 

Alistair frowned, getting up from behind his desk. “If the Orlesians are up to anything – other than wearing silly masks and eating fancy cheese – no one’s told me about it.” He gestured for Meri to sit with him on the couch, then tried to rub his palms on his trousers without making it obvious they’d started sweating. 

Meri sat on the couch, her movements unconsciously graceful as always. Maker’s breath, did she have any idea? No, she never had. 

Alistair sat next to her, trying to ignore how big and awkward he felt, all sweaty palms and tangled up thoughts. 

Meri groaned, sinking against the back of the couch. “Okay, so not the Orlesians, good. Who’s causing us trouble now?” Her lips curled into a sympathetic smile that melted his heart, and he had to remind himself to stop staring, keep breathing, and remember what words were. 

“Take your pick. I don’t think there’s anyone in Thedas who isn’t trying to be our problem lately.” He was warmed by the easy way they fell into the plural, a team again, just like during the Blight. “But that’s not the point at the moment. Ignore the formal invitation. I just wanted to talk to you.” Alistair hesitated. If he were braver, he’d have taken her hand. But he’d never been brave when it came to her, had he? “I’m… worried about you, Meri.” 

“Worried? Why?” She sat up, tucking her hair behind one ear and giving him a smile even he could see wasn’t genuine. “I’m fine.” 

“Of course you are!” Alistair responded with false brightness. “And I’m just dying to meet with the Antivan ambassador tomorrow.” 

The wan smile that spread across Meri’s face in response looked like she meant it, at least. “You really do need to be polite to him, though.” 

Alistair rolled his eyes. “I will. Or, well, I’ll try. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” He folded his arms with a mock stern frown. “Now stop changing the subject and admit that you’ve been sulking around for the past week.” He braced himself. “Since Teagan left.” 

Meri flopped back against the couch, an arm over her face muffling her words. “I don’t want to talk about Teagan.” 

Neither did Alistair. But they needed to. “Well… we could pretend that something else happened a week ago that’s put you in a bad mood ever since. Let’s see…” He raised a knuckle to his lips, pretending to think. “Someone stole your favorite shoes? Your mabari got fleas? The kitchens ran out of scones?” 

Meri swatted him on the shoulder with the arm that had been over her face. Her striking green eyes looked a little damp and red, but her lips had drawn into an amused smirk that he counted as a partial victory. She sighed. “Fine, yes, I’m upset that Teagan left without… That he just left.” She inhaled sharply, almost a sniffle. “I thought that he… that we…” Meri shook her head, blinking rapidly. “I should have known better.” 

She sounded so lost, so hopeless and rejected, that Alistair couldn’t help himself. Forgetting his hesitation and doubt, he caught her hand, her skin cool and smooth against his clumsy, calloused palm. “Meri, look at me.” 

Startled, either by his touch or his serious tone, Meri tilted her head up, teary eyes meeting his warily. 

“Okay, good…” Alistair took a steadying breath. “I need you to listen now. Because I don’t think I’ll be able to say this again.” 

Her lips twitched, the tiniest hint of an amused smile, and Alistair felt a tiny surge of confidence. She hadn’t pulled her hand away, either. 

“I don’t know what happened between you and Teagan. And, honestly, I don’t want to. Not in detail. But what I do know, as strongly as I’ve ever known anything, is that he made a mistake. He left. He gave up on… on you. And that’s the biggest mistake I can think of.” The flippant jokes he wanted to make froze in his throat, and instead he squeezed her hand tighter. “Meri, you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re strong and generous and sweet and smart and… beautiful. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are, Meri?” 

She gaped at him, beautiful green eyes wide as her lips parted without any words emerging. 

Alistair chuckled nervously before continuing. “And I mean, if I can see all of that, well, then, he has no excuse. If he can’t see how amazing you are, or if he can and walked away anyway…” He shook his head, swallowing. “Then Teagan didn’t deserve you. And you don’t need him. Meri, you deserve better. You deserve someone who will make you feel treasured and precious and every bit as wonderful as you are. Not someone who’s going to leave at the first inconvenience. Someone who really loves you would never leave you like that. _I_ would never…” 

His words ran out, finally, the traitorous things. If they were going to desert him, couldn’t they have done it before he’d said all of the things he wasn’t supposed to say and made a complete fool of himself? He ducked his head, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment. 

“Oh…” Meri exhaled softly, somewhere between a word and a sigh. 

Void take it, this had not been the plan. Alistair had been going to talk to her about Teagan, help her feel better about herself. Not make everything awkward and even worse by confessing he’d been in love with her since almost the moment he first saw her. 

“Alistair?” Meri’s fingers were cool against his cheek, her touch almost as hesitant as the way she said his name. 

He lifted his head, turning to meet her questioning gaze. He couldn’t refuse her anything. 

Her brows were lowered, and she looked very thoughtful as her eyes scanned slowly over his face. But she didn’t seem upset or angry, at least. Alistair held very still, holding his breath as Meri studied him. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but he felt utterly exposed, almost trembling under the steady pressure of those green eyes. 

Alistair felt trapped in a timeless moment filled with nothing but Meri’s eyes and the pounding of his own heart. 

Eventually, her expression softened, a tiny smile lifting one corner of her mouth as she slowly shook her head. Her fingers still rested against his cheek. “All this time, and I never saw what was right in front of me?” 

Alistair shrugged awkwardly, not sure what she wanted him to say. “I guess I’m pretty good at hiding things.” 

Meri shook her head more firmly with a hint of a laugh. “No, you aren’t. I just wasn’t looking.” She stroked her fingers along his cheekbone. “But I’m looking now.” 

Alistair’s mouth went dry, and every single thought flew from his head. He could do nothing but stare, frozen in disbelief, as Meri straightened on the couch and leaned towards him. 

Her lips were soft against his, and her distinctive scent of lilacs surrounded him. Meriana Cousland filled up every part of his world in that moment, and all he could think was that he was the luckiest man in the world. 

When Meri pulled back, she looked at him with a shy smile. Alistair’s mind reeled, still struggling to believe this could be real and not just a product of his hopeless imagination. Meri’s fingers, still resting lightly on the side of his face, grounded him. Her smile widened, and the easy, natural way she touched him dispelled the last of his doubts. Meri was here. Meri had kissed him. 

“You know…” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I think I had a dream like this once.” 

“Really?” Alistair drew the word out, raising one eyebrow with a teasing grin. 

Meri rewarded him with a laugh, slapping him lightly on the shoulder before leaning against his side, warm and comfortable and like she belonged there.


	2. Chapter 2

_Four months later_

Alexia was cursed. There could be no other possible explanation for the string of horrible timing that had plagued her since she’d left the Free Marches. A delayed and miserable sea voyage had brought her to Highever too late to help with the bulk of the reconstruction she’d come to assist with. Fergus had clearly viewed a distant cousin showing up after the fact as more of a nuisance than the comforting aid she’d intended. His suggestions that she might want to visit Denerim to meet her more famous cousin had been delivered politely and with every appearance of sincerity, but Alexia couldn’t fault the man for wanting to get rid of her. So she’d graciously agreed and relocated to the capital. 

Arriving two days after Meriana left for the Grey Warden outpost being established in Amaranthine. 

With no family to present her and no political acquaintances to smooth her way, Alexia had been left in limbo, drifting aimlessly around the capital and palace as an unofficial guest. Since she hadn’t been formally presented, Alexia couldn’t attend any official court functions, which was probably just as well since she suspected she wouldn’t have the least idea what to do at one anyway. No one knew her, and that in itself was enough reason for most of them to mark her as unimportant, not worth their time. 

She’d tried to make herself useful at first. But all of her skills lay in financial management and trade negotiations, and no one in the Fereldan capital was particularly eager to let a foreigner get too close to their ledgers or business dealings. After a fruitless week of being met with polite – or not so polite – refusals, she abandoned her attempts and put on her armor, hoping to take her frustrations out on training dummies in the practice yards. 

The greatsword felt good in her hands, as always, solid and real, its weight grounding her in the present. Her world narrowed down to the shining blade and her targets, both real and imagined. Maker, she hadn’t realized how much she’d needed the clarity she found in sword practice. 

Not feeling welcome anywhere else, Alexia began spending most of her days haunting the practice yards, becoming something of a regular presence. The other armored figures gathered there – soldiers, guards, perhaps a few visiting nobles – cared more about skill than social standing, and she found acceptance among their ranks, a welcome that had been sorely lacking since she’d set foot in this damp, grey-skied country. 

One of the guards in particular became her regular sparring partner, challenging her to friendly matches whenever he was present. He claimed to be new to the palace, but he held a sword and shield like he’d been born with them, like they were extensions of his arms. Alexia left every single one of their training sessions with muscles aching from overuse and cheeks that hurt from smiling. He didn’t just spar with her. He joked, he teased, he made her laugh. 

When she asked his name the second afternoon they sparred together, he looked startled and then laughed, refusing to tell her. So she’d promptly declared her identity a secret as well. It had become something of a game, the pair of them making up ridiculous false identities to fight under each time they met. She looked forward to seeing him, scanning hopefully for his familiar fighting stance every time she entered the practice yards. 

After weeks of being lonely in a strange place, Alexia delighted in having found a friend. 

As the days stretched on, they spent as much time talking as sparring. Despite her new friend’s refusal to give any specific details about his life, Alexia felt like she knew everything about him, like she could trust him with anything. The sound of his laughter echoed in her head long after she left the practice yards and returned to her small, quiet room. His grin never failed to draw an answering smile to her face. And she would have recognized the warm brown of his eyes even through a visor slit amidst an entire regiment. 

After three months of sparring with the mysterious guardsman, Alexia reluctantly admitted to herself that she was falling in love. 

Suddenly, not knowing his name or how to find him outside of the practice yards felt like far more of a problem than it had before. She wanted more than a chance acquaintance, someone she crossed paths with – or not – and then moved on. She wanted so, so much more. 

As Alexia struggled with both her unexpected feelings and her partner’s continued evasion every time the drew near to anything personal, word reached the court – and eventually filtered down to a persona non grata like her – that Meriana Cousland, Commander of the Grey, Hero of Ferelden, and the king’s fiancée, was returning from Amaranthine, riding high on the wave of another victory over darkspawn threatening her country. 

Alexia didn’t know how to take the news. With Meriana back, she would finally have a relative who could present her at court, introduce her among the nobility, and carve her a place other than a tiny, cramped room. On the other hand, she wouldn’t be free to spend every afternoon at the practice yards hoping to catch sight of a familiar face or hear a laugh that made her heart lurch in her chest. 

But Meriana knew people at court, had contacts and resources that Alexia could never hope to cultivate. If anyone could help discover the identity of her mystery guardsman, surely it would be Meriana. Perhaps her cousin’s return wouldn’t be such a bad thing at all. 

\------------

Being a nonentity at court, Alexia couldn’t attend the gathering that welcomed Meriana back to Denerim. Or the formal reception and dinner scheduled for that evening. Eager to finally meet the woman who she had come all this way to visit, Alexia decided to go to her cousin’s rooms before the reception. She hoped that wasn’t too bold an intrusion. Fergus had assured her that Meriana would welcome her eagerly, placing a high priority on the bonds of family. She ignored the nagging voice in the back of her head that questioned his sincerity, reminded her of how eager Fergus had seemed to get rid of her. 

If Meriana didn’t wish to be disturbed, surely she could tell Alexia to come back later. The woman had killed an archdemon and Maker knew how many other monsters. She was going to be queen. She would hardly be at a loss dealing with an unwanted guest. 

Alexia found the door to Meriana’s room standing partway open. Her cousin couldn’t be too intent on privacy if she hadn’t even closed the door. Reassured, she took a breath and relaxed her shoulders. As she raised her hand to knock, Alexia heard a voice from within the room. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

Alexia froze, unable to catch her breath, her arm paralyzed with knuckles inches from the heavy wood of the door. She knew that voice, heard it in her daydreams and sometimes even in her sleep. But the soft, intimate tone, which made something flutter in her chest and curl in her belly… That tone was unfamiliar, never having been meant for her. 

There were no more words after that, only the soft sounds of breathing, quiet sighs and contented hums. Alexia didn’t need to peer through the gap in the door to know quite well why no one within the room was speaking. 

Her arm lowered to her side, hand clenched so tightly that her nails cut into her palm, her body trembling as she tried to control her breathing, forcing herself to inhale and exhale in a steady rhythm. There had to be an explanation. She must be misunderstanding something. Meriana was engaged to the king. She couldn’t possibly be kissing – passionately embracing, whimpering and sighing for – a guard trainee. 

“I know.” An unfamiliar female voice, presumably Meriana, sounding breathless. “I’ve missed you, too, Alistair.” 

The king. Meriana was talking to – kissing, holding, whispering endearments to – the king. But that couldn’t be. Alexia knew that voice, and he was a guardsman. Not a king, not even a noble. A strong, brave, funny guardsman whose smile lit her world. He didn’t belong to the realm of the nobility who had shunned her, reduced her to a spirit wandering the fringes of their court. He was solid and real and kind and gentle. He was… 

Desperate to know, Alexia leaned close to the door, peering through the open gap. The angle didn’t offer a perfect view, but she could see enough. The couple stood, embracing as she had expected. Alexia scarcely spared a glance for the woman, slender and dark-haired. The man. She needed to see the man, this supposed king who sounded like a common guardsman. Her guardsman. 

Then she saw him, and she knew. The set of his shoulders, the gold of his hair, the way he placed his feet to brace extra weight – the weight of a woman now rather than armor, but the posture was the same. He wore unfamiliar clothes, expensive fabrics finely tailored, but she knew him. She’d know him anywhere. 

And everything she’d believed – imagined – about him had been a lie. 

Shaken and nauseated, Alexia backed away from the door, retracing her steps back to her tiny cell of a room, grateful for once to be a nobody. Because no one would spare her a second look to notice the way her hands shook, the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes as she struggled to take in even breaths rather than gulping sobs. 

All of the evasiveness, the silly false identities, his surprise when she’d asked for his name… It all made sense now. Too late, it all made sense. 

The guardsman she’d fallen in love with had never been real. And the man inside the role had never been free to be hers. 

\---------------

Alexia regarded her reflection in the glass with a careful detachment. She held perfectly still, ignoring the pair of servants curling and braiding her hair, just as she’d ignored them dabbing color onto her lips and eyelids. The blue gown – a deep, lustrous Cousland blue – was the finest thing she’d ever worn, and the borrowed jewels at her throat cost more than her family made in a season’s trading. 

She would have given it all up to be anywhere other than here. 

When they finally met, Meriana had been warm and welcoming, every bit as delighted to meet a long lost cousin as Fergus had predicted. Family clearly meant everything to the queen-to-be, and she’d taken Alexia in like a sister rather than a distant, foreign relative. Alexia felt humbled and honored and ever so guilty. 

Their growing friendship had soured quickly, almost as soon as it began, spoiled by Alexia’s coldness. She kept a distance between them, a separation born out of jealousy and irrational resentment. Even knowing it was unfair – Meriana hadn’t taken anything from her; she’d never truly had anything to lose – Alexia couldn’t bring herself to return her cousin’s warmth and friendship. 

But one small blessing had come from Alexia’s kinship with the future queen: her first official meeting with King Alistair had happened in private rather than in a public audience. When Meri happily introduced her cousin, the king had stared in momentary shock and then laughed. A familiar laugh that twisted Alexia’s stomach in knots and stabbed ice into her heart. 

Of course, then he’d let Meriana in on the joke, his gestures broad and relaxed as he explained how he’d amused himself while his fiancée was away by sneaking around the palace dressed as a guard. How he’d taken to haunting the practice yards and sparring with a woman who now turned out to be his future cousin-in-law. He laughed openly, not a trace of guilt as he told his intended wife about her, proof that the time they’d spent together had never meant to him what it had to her. 

“Your cousin’s surprisingly dangerous with a greatsword, Meri.” He finished up with an easy smile. “You should see her; it’s quite something.” That brilliant smile turned to Alexia, causing her pulse to skip and bile to rise in her throat. “We should do it again sometime.” 

Alexia forced a polite smile to her face. “Of course! Whenever your majesty wishes.” 

She had no intention of ever setting foot in that practice yard again. 

With Meriana back from Amaranthine, Alexia had finally been introduced at court. People who had snubbed and shunned her for months suddenly sought out her company, showered her with invitations to teas and soirees and luncheons. Alexia declined all of their offers, returning the pretty perfumed notes with blunt refusals, her precise merchant’s script a stark contrast to the flowing calligraphy. None of them cared for her personally; they only wanted to capitalize on her presumed intimacy with the Hero of Ferelden, the queen to be. Alexia had no patience for their false friendships and disingenuous smiles. A merchant’s daughter didn’t belong in the viper pit of a royal court; coming to Denerim had been a mistake on every level. 

But escaping from it proved harder than she’d hoped. When Alexia mentioned to Meriana that she was considering returning to Highever, her cousin’s bright smile had vanished. 

Meriana gripped her hands, a stricken expression on her face. “Please, can’t you stay just a few weeks longer? Until the wedding?” She glanced down, biting her lip and blinking before looking back at Alexia imploringly. “I was hoping that you would… There’s a Fereldan tradition where the bride and groom each have a family member stand with them, a man for the groom and a woman for the bride. We’d thought we’d have to skip that part. Alistair could ask his uncle; they don’t share blood, but Teagan’s the closest to family he’s ever known. But I didn’t have anyone to ask. Until now…” She smiled hopefully, like an excited little girl, and Alexia didn’t have the heart to refuse her. 

“Of course.” Alexia squeezed back against the hands wrapped tightly around hers. “I’d be honored to be part of your wedding.” She forced a smile that she hoped hid the ache in her chest. “Who wouldn’t want to be a guest of honor for a royal wedding?” 

Meriana beamed with relieved delight, keeping hold of Alexia’s hand as she dragged her away, chattering excitedly about all of the details involved in planning a combined state wedding and coronation. 

Over the following weeks, Alexia had found ample reason to regret that rash decision, as she spent her days watching Meriana glow with happiness and hearing her giggle and sigh over her husband-to-be. Thankfully, the torture was almost over. If Alexia could get through today – survive the wedding ceremony, then the dinner and ball to follow – it would all be finished. She would be freed of her obligations to remain at court, and she could flee from Denerim. Highever no longer seemed far enough away to be a safe refuge; she would go back to the Free Marches. As soon as the post-wedding celebrations were over, Alexia would book passage on a ship home and sink gratefully into the obscurity of life as a merchant’s daughter, someone who would never cross paths with a king and queen. 

Her reflection in the mirrored glass had grown fuzzy, and Alexia blinked quickly to clear the tears before they spilled over to smudge the cosmetics carefully applied around her eyes. She’d hate to ruin the servants’ work and force them to start over. Especially after spending weeks helping Meriana make sure that everything for today would be perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

\-----------

When Alexia finally got to the wedding, it wasn’t that bad, really. 

No, that was a lie. Everything about it was unrelentingly horrible. Standing at the front of the huge, opulent Chantry. Seeing Meriana radiant in a gown of gold and ivory. Staring at the king, resplendent in his ceremonial armor. Watching the two of them gaze at one another raptly, eyes shining with joy. 

Alexia could only hope that any observers who noticed her in the royal couple’s shadow attributed her poorly concealed look of pain to standing through the Revered Mother’s interminable droning speech, to the weight of the hair piled on her head – that couldn’t all be hers, could it? – or to ill-fitting shoes. Anything but a secret, foolish infatuation with the groom. 

The choice for Alistair to be married in armor, that proved to be the worst torture of the day for Alexia. She’d known of the plan but not expected how strongly it would affect her. The way he moved wearing plate mail, how he held himself under its weight. It conjured memories of the guardsman she had known, befriended. Loved. A man who had never existed outside of her imagination. 

Despite the familiarity of him in armor, she could never mistake the real King Alistair for the man she’d created in her dreams, the one who could have come to care for her in return. Alexia soon discovered that it didn’t matter how much she let herself stare at him; the infatuated groom had eyes for no one besides his bride. He’d told Alexia she looked beautiful when their paths crossed before the ceremony, but it had been a polite, courtly sort of compliment, lacking any of the awkward blushing that marked his sincerity. After that faint, meaningless kindness, she almost preferred that he didn’t spare her another thought. 

During the exchange of vows, when the royal couple promised to love and cherish one another, to be faithful and devoted and all of the other things newlyweds swear, Alexia looked away, unable to watch the love and devotion shining in their faces. She fixed her eyes, instead, on her counterpart, the king’s “family” member. 

Arl Teagan. She knew little about him. He’d arrived two nights ago, in time for the wedding, if barely. She envied him the responsibilities of an arling that let him avoid all of the planning and preparation. Alexia had paid him little attention, too busy wallowing in and concealing her pointless personal misery. She studied him now, grateful for an alternative to the beautiful , heart-rending display of matrimonial love. 

Surprisingly, Teagan wasn’t watching the vows either, his gaze fixed on the far wall behind Alexia. The steady movement of his eyes suggested he might be counting bricks or tracing lead lines in the stained glass windows. Monotonous distractions she wished she’d thought of earlier herself. 

But why did he need something to occupy his mind? Surely the king’s uncle couldn’t object to the royal wedding. The arl’s elder brother had arranged half of the details for the day’s celebrations; he wouldn’t have done that if the marriage weakened his family’s position at court. Teagan couldn’t be bothered by the wedding. Likely he found the formal ceremony dull, the prescribed text a tedious repetition of flowery words he’d heard so many times before that they had lost all meaning. 

Regardless of his reasons, his method of passing the time had merit. Alexia fixed her eyes on the floor and began mentally tracing the patterns of lines worked into the tile, counting the small chips of stone as she went. Anything to fill up her mind and block out the sound of Meriana’s sweet voice and Alistair’s disbelieving joy as they pledged their lives to one another.


	3. Chapter 3

Teagan should never have agreed to stand with Alistair at the wedding. He’d known it even as he penned the letter agreeing to do so, saying that he’d be honored. While he had been sincerely touched to be the closest person the orphaned king had to family, he’d known precisely how much of a mistake it would be to subject himself to the torture of attending the royal wedding. But he’d agreed nonetheless. Because on the list of mistakes he had reason to regret, standing through a marriage ceremony could hardly rank near the top. 

When he’d heard that Meriana and Alistair were engaged – a letter from Eamon reaching Redcliffe scarcely a day before the formal, public announcement – Teagan knew he’d been both right and horribly, terribly wrong to leave Denerim when he did. He’d lost her, totally and irrevocably. But she never could have been his to begin with. A beautiful, vibrant young woman like Meriana belonged with a handsome, devoted nobleman her own age, not a worn down veteran over a decade her senior. It stung that she’d fallen into Alistair’s arms quite so quickly after Teagan left, but that only proved he’d been right to quit the field and allow the boy his opportunity. 

Teagan had done his promised duty today, standing through the wedding ceremony. He’d been present as symbolic support and approval, nevermind that he hadn’t heard a word the Revered Mother said, too busy filling his mind with plans for the fall harvest, a list of those Eamon would want him to speak with while he was in the capital, and after he exhausted everything practical, a catalogue of trivial architectural details about the Chantry. 

Coward that he was, Teagan had avoided making eye contact with Meriana the entire day. Even when offering his congratulations and especially when swearing fealty to his new queen with a formal kiss to her hand. Her skin smelled of flowers, and the feel of her soft hand in his sent sharp pangs of regret through his chest. If he hadn’t been so foolish, could this day’s happiness have been his? 

He banished the thought. Meriana deserved someone young and playful and spontaneous. Meriana deserved someone who would fill her days with laughter and joy. Meriana deserved Alistair. How selfish would he have been to deny them both that happiness simply because he found Meriana as alluring as any man with sense must? 

Alistair clearly hadn’t forgotten their conversation before Teagan left Denerim the last time. He’d asked his uncle to join him by his evening fire the night Teagan had arrived, two days before the wedding. Alistair had been awkward, hesitant as he tried to broach the subject. Trying to apologize, most likely. 

Teagan cut him off, unwilling to hear it. Unwilling to discuss what he’d come to suspect might be the greatest mistake of his life. “She chose you. She’s marrying you.” 

“But if I hadn’t… If you hadn’t…” Alistair sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If you’d stayed…” 

Teagan waved his hand firmly, brushing away the pointless what-ifs. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t stay.” He’d run like a coward, fleeing the thing he most wanted, and he’d had cause to regret that action nearly every day since. 

“But if you had…” 

“Alistair.” Teagan fixed his nephew with a firm stare, and the boy flinched back from the intensity of it. “It doesn’t matter, not now. Only one thing matters between us today.” Teagan paused, waiting until he was certain Alistair would truly hear what he said next. “Will you make Meriana happy?” 

“Yes, of course. Maker’s breath, I…” Alistair checked his stumbling babble, and inhaled deeply, composing himself to match Teagan’s serious demeanor. “In every way that’s within my power. I promise.” 

Teagan nodded acceptance. “Then nothing more needs to be said.” 

So it hadn’t been, that night or the next, and now Alistair and Meriana were married, legally and sacredly wedded to one another in bonds of love and honor. Teagan had done everything he’d promised to do, and once tonight’s festivities were completed, he’d be free to return to Redcliffe with a clear conscience and an aching heart. 

\--------------

Teagan had forgotten about his final obligation, the last thing required of the groom’s family representative following the wedding: a dance with the bride’s family member. Meriana’s cousin, from what he’d seen of her, was a quiet girl, pretty enough in a tall, muscular sort of way, but lacking the sparkle and fire that had drawn him to Meriana from the start. A dance with her should be a simple matter, guiding the provincial merchant’s daughter through the complicated footwork and making bland, meaningless conversation. That much, he thought he could manage, even tonight. 

Of course, he should have known it couldn’t be so simple. 

Things started out well enough. Alexia proved to be a more skilled dancer than he expected, requiring rather less guidance than anticipated. Which was fortunate, because his eyes began prickling nearly as soon as they entered the dance floor. He spent the first several measures of the song scanning the decorations with growing alarm, searching for the offending lilies. 

Unsurprisingly, Alexia noticed his preoccupation. “What’s wrong? Do you need help finding something?” 

“Flowers.” He spoke shortly, trying to control his breath. “Lily of the valley. I’m terribly allergic. Do you see any?” 

She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “I’m not familiar with that flower. I’m sorry.” 

Teagan’s answer was preempted by a large sneeze, and he drew his arm out of the dance hold barely in time to cover the explosion. 

“Maker’s blessing.” Alexia responded automatically, looking at him with mild alarm. “What do they look like?” 

“Broad green leaves, slender stalks with small white flowers hanging down.” He gasped out a description of the plant while fighting off another sneeze, having abandoned all pretense of dancing. 

His partner’s eyes widened. “Coral bells?” 

Teagan nodded, a faint memory surfacing. That was the name the lilies were sometimes given in the Marches, yes. 

“Oh, no…” Horror crossed Alexia’s face. “It’s not the flowers; it’s me. My perfume. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…” 

Teagan’s laugh at the sheer absurdity of it turned into another violent sneeze, his eyes beginning to water in earnest. 

“Fresh air.” Alexia took hold of his hand decisively and dragged him towards the door to a balcony. “That should clear the scent. I promise to stand well away. And downwind.” She flashed him a hint of a smile, the first genuine expression of amusement he’d seen on her face all day. 

True to her word, Alexia steered them to the balcony as Teagan’s vision blurred, guiding him to the railing and then taking up her own position several feet away, patiently waiting. Teagan pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at his streaming eyes and running nose, then inhaled large lungfuls of the clean night air, hoping to clear out the offending fragrance. 

As his vision cleared and his breathing became less hindered, Teagan’s sniffing gave way to laughter. Wracking, bitter laughter that left him doubled over and clutching at the balcony railing. 

“My lord?” Alexia sounded alarmed by his sudden outburst, but she kept her distance, mindful of his allergy. 

Teagan waved a hand to dismiss her concerns as he gradually regained control of himself. The uncontrollable laughter subsided to a faint, hollow chuckle, and he shook his head slowly. “I apologize for distressing you. There’s no need to worry. I was momentarily overcome by the… ridiculousness of it all.” His lips curled in distaste, the bitter humor fading as fast as it had come. “Because today needed one final crowning indignity.” 

Alexia frowned, nodding understanding. Her eyes suddenly seemed far more alert and perceptive than he had realized. “I had wondered, earlier. You and Meriana have a history?” 

A history. Calling it that would be generous. “We had a moment. At the most, we had potential.” He shrugged, the gesture tightly controlled and deliberately casual. “It hardly matters now.” 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t, does it?” Alexia looked away, granting him privacy as she gazed out into the night. 

They stood in silence for a few moments, while Teagan relived, yet again, every glorious second of that too-brief evening with Meriana. Ending with his hesitation at her door, his failure to seize the one opportunity he might have had with her. Would it have changed anything, in the long run, if he’d made his intentions clear that night? Perhaps not. He would never know, of course. But even so, he regretted missing the chance to have kissed her at least once before he lost her forever. 

His melancholy thoughts were dragged back to the present when Alexia spoke again. “So what comes next? For you, I mean.” 

“For me? Nothing much.” Teagan shrugged. “I spend the evening speaking with my brother’s political cronies, and then tomorrow I return home.” For good, this time. Teagan could imagine little short of a war that would drag him back to Denerim again. 

“Home.” Her voice held a soft, wistful note, and she gazed out into the night, as if she could see across the leagues of the Waking Sea. 

“Perhaps you should do the same.” Teagan offered a weak smile. “Although I suggest forgoing the politicking and gossip.” 

Alexia chuckled politely. “I’m sure I’ll get enough of that at the merchant guild gatherings back home, yes. No need to stock up on it before I leave.” 

“You’re going back to the Free Marches, then?” 

She nodded, turning to glance into the ballroom, her voice soft. “There’s nothing for me here.” 

Teagan followed her gaze, catching sight of Meriana and Alistair dancing together, radiant in the candlelight that reflected off her glowing gown and his gleaming armor. They looked beautiful together, a study in contrasts and yet a matched pair. What had he ever thought he could offer her? 

Teagan shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No, nor for me.”


End file.
